


A Summer of Dahlias

by mostlyunstablefangirl



Category: Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21983461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlyunstablefangirl/pseuds/mostlyunstablefangirl
Summary: Howl is a florist. Sophie is snarky, sweet, and just wants a summer job. Howl's Moving Castle AU, but make it lesbians.
Relationships: Sophie Hatter & Howl Pendragon
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	A Summer of Dahlias

Destined again for her -- albeit very esteemed -- state college while her sisters went to the likes of Tufts and Berkeley, Sophie wanted a change. Which was why, the summer before her senior year of college, she responded to a Craigslist ad calling for a full-time, live-in florist.

It was a gamble, really, because although she wanted to enter into a botany degree, she had nearly zero experience working with store-quality flowers, save for the hydrangeas in her mother’s front yard. She applied online with as much uncertainty as a hedgehog in a holiday cottage, but received a response within an hour.

She felt that the proceeds from a flower shop didn’t warrant housing a minimum-wage worker over the converted garage where the florist presided. But the room was already half-furnished in a minimalist sort of way, perfectly homey for a broke college student.

Sophie also had fewer clothing items because her parents had moved away during her last year at university. They had, rather fortuitously for them, overlooked Sophie’s more usual attire and narrowed her closet down to the most conservative -- stowing her beloved crop tops somewhere in the nearest U-Store unit. This dewy morning meant a long, pink cardigan over a white vee-neck shirt and boot-cut jeans concealing sneakers.

The twenty-two-year-old florist, introducing herself as Howl, directed Sophie to put her things down in the bedroom before leading her into the garage. The space was lined on one wall with refrigerators, where delicate corsages nestled in tiny plastic cupcake containers.

The most conventional were those with roses and baby’s breath, and the most extraordinary housed a tiger lily reaching outward toward, presumably, a future prom celebrant. Sophie smiled wistfully -- coming out as gay after graduation meant that you certainly don’t get to go to prom with the person you might _really_ want to go with. She also noted that it was strange, because prom season had long passed, and yet here was a sign of young love still suspended in delicate tissue paper.

“We have alternative prom-goers come in,” Howl said, by way of explanation.

In the middle of the garage were rows of wire shelves, each supplied with a grow light. Sophie felt moisture bead on her upper lip from the heat of the day coming on -- and certainly not from the sight of Howl’s oversized t-shirt and slim jeans -- as she walked among the various plants.

“So, you have very little experience so you’ll have to work your hardest,” Howl prefaced. “We won’t tolerate anything below the highest degree of quality. We’re awarded the best reviews in town, even though we’re small.”

“Why did you choose me, then?”

Howl seemed flummoxed by the question. “Your cover letter was very...enthusiastic.”

* * *

“Hey, new girl,” a slightly effeminate and slender man called from the cash register. He lowered his voice as she approached. “If you can get her off my back, I’ll revamp your wardrobe and redo your Instagram feed.”

Sophie’s hackles raised, wondering what she had agreed to when she consented to live here. “Is she mean to you?

“No, but you’ll see what it’s like when you choose to work full-time with a friend. I love her, but I’m stuck with her for reasons that developed in high school.”

Sophie cocked her head. She really would’ve liked to know what Howl was like in high school, from her suave and unaffected demeanor.

“I’ve heard it’s not a good choice,” Sophie offered, then stuck out her hand in greeting. “I’m Sophie.”

“I know who you are. I’m Cal. You don’t normally dress like this, do you?”

Sophie looked down at her ensemble. “Ah, no. How did you know?”

“It’s how you carry yourself. Trust me, I was in the closet wearing athletic shorts, until I was seventeen and decided to tell my mom I wanted to wear sweaters...not unlike the one you’re wearing right now.” Cal winked.

Sophie was touched to be privy to this knowledge.

Howl chose that moment to stride in, awash in some heavenly scent and wearing a short-sleeve button-up shirt with the first two undone. A thin, silver chain hung just below her collarbone. “Cal, what are you saying to corrupt our new girl?”

“Nothing, lady.”

Howl tsked, unbelieving, and turned abruptly to mist the orchids. “Sophie. This will be your responsibility. I want you to watch and understand the moisture levels.”

Sophie thought she saw the woman’s lips quirk up at her own last sentence, the meaning not lost on her.

Cal guffawed. “Not the first time you’ve said _that_ , huh?”

“Has he come in yet?” Michaela, Howl’s assistant, asked anxiously.

“Not yet,” Howl sighed, “I’m starting to think he’s forgotten about us.”

Sophie, whiplashed by the change from obscenity to business, made a questioning look.

“One of our main customers, this wedding planner named Justin,” Howl paused to roll her eyes, “hasn’t been here for months. He was supposed to be planning a wedding for another regular, Dr. Suliman.”

“Maybe you’d catch him if you weren’t always out on dates,” Cal muttered, vocal register lilting upward in a playful tone.

Howl gave him a severe look, and then swept out of the shop in a storm of perfume.

* * *

Sophie, admittedly, loved her bedroom above the shop. 

There were a variety of rooms into which she wasn’t allowed -- notably, Howl’s bedroom and Howl’s workroom.

On some days, Howl could be heard singing in the bathroom. Sophie overheard mostly when she wasn’t expected to be upstairs, but when she needed to retire to her room during her lunch breaks. Swaths of shampoo scent rolled out in waves from the crack underneath the bathroom door. 

What was more upsetting on some days was to hear Howl crying in the shower, soft little sobs that snuck through the din of water beating against porcelain.

* * *

“Here comes trouble,” Cal singsonged, and with comical briskness left the counter.

“What?” Sophie hissed.

Michaela nodded toward the woman who entered the shop, her nails done in startlingly sharp false tips. “That’s Howl’s ex-girlfriend Waverly. She’s also Dr. Suliman’s receptionist.”

As much as she appreciated the confirmation of Howl’s sexuality, Sophie didn’t care for the woman’s manner already. She walked on her pumps in an exaggerated manner, toes lined up so perfectly at the midline of her body that it must’ve been extra strain on her hips.

“Hi,” she drawled when she reached the counter, removing her sunglasses with feigned-elegant slowness. “My sister is having a baby and I’d like to get her some flowers. Could I speak to the florist?”

“She’s not in, she has a prior engagement,” Sophie said pointedly, hoping to enunciate the last word well. “Can I make a suggestion?”

“No, thanks,” Waverly said boredly, and exited the shop.

“Are you serious?” Sophie asked.

Michaela shrugged. “What can I say? Howl really likes pieces of work. The more work she has to do to win them over, the better. And the more of an asshole they are, the better. But I’ll let you in on a secret: she doesn’t really love any of them.”

“No?”

“No. The day she stops primping so much for someone, and putting on that front, is the day that Ella Howard Jenkins is in love.”

* * *

“Your ex was here,” Sophie said simply while tucking narcissus bulbs into half-marble displays.

Howl paused mid-step, then swiveled toward her. “Oh?”

Howl was dressed in a pantsuit, carrying her blazer draped over a forearm. The slinky white dress shirt tapered into fitted slacks and a pair of heels. Sophie tried not to think about what kind of date would warrant such attire.

“She seemed very adamant on seeing you.”

“Remind me, which one?”

Sophie made sure to turn back to her activity so that Howl wouldn’t see her roll her eyes. “This was Waverly.”

“Oh, good God. She’s out for blood.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t have so many women coming after you if you were a little more discerning with whom you keep company.”

“Are you slut-shaming me?”

Sophie had to laugh. “Not at all. I very much admire your liberation. I’m just saying, you seem to pick bad ones.”

Howl sighed. “Just do your job, Sophie.”

* * *

"Have you ever been in love? Like, really in love?" Sophie asked in passing in the upstairs apartment's kitchenette.

Howl halted from wiping her hands dry. "Are you saying that you are?"

"No, I'm asking you."

"I've been with a lot of women."

"That's not what I'm asking."

Howl sniffed. "What constitutes love?"

"You just said you've been with a lot of women, shouldn't you know?"

"I want to know your definition so that I can give you the answer you're looking for."

"I think...having someone who wholly respects you. Who thinks you're beautiful when you've just gotten up in the morning. Who doesn't like hiking, but will go on hikes just for you. Who will tell you no sometimes, but will do so with grace, and give you a time that they'd like to say yes later."

Howl picked up her bowl of yellow curry, stirring thoughtfully. "It sounds like you've had that."

"I've had enough of the opposite to know that I want that."

"The question is, does it exist?"

"We'll find out, won't we?" Sophie asked with a mischievous smile, not quite certain what she meant by the question. She picked up her crocheting and her mug of hot chocolate, retreating to her room with Howl's gaze hot between her shoulder blades.

* * *

“Sophie,” Howl sighed, beckoning her.

“Howl,” Sophie responded, wiping her hands on her apron.

That stopped Howl in her tracks. She shook her head as if to clear it. “Sophie, did a couple come in and you recommended pink dahlias for their wedding?”

“Yes, they loved it. They’re getting married in an octagonal barn, doesn’t that sound pretty?”

Howl held her forehead in the web of her thumb and forefinger. “Sophie. Dahlias mean _proud love without compromise_. I told you to study your flower meanings. Is that any way to represent a newlywed couple? I don’t want people thinking I run a zoo, here.”

“Howl,” Sophie mimicked, “I don’t just recommend things willy-nilly. I’ve _been_ studying, and dahlias also mean _dignity_ and _strength of values_. Isn’t that a great basis for a marriage?”

Howl set her teeth. “You know what? Fine. I’ve never heard of that, and I’m a little doubtful. Can you please just _ask_ next time?”

“It’s just flowers, Howl. They’re beautiful to look at.”

Howl gave her a once-over, and then looked at her with more resolve than she ever had before. “Not everything is just something beautiful to look at.”

* * *

Sophie entered the shop one Friday morning to a heated debate.

“Tell me what she wants, and I’ll do it,” Waverly seethed. “What did she say about me? I can fix it.”

“I can’t just tell you her business,” Cal said calmly. “She’s my best friend. Besides, you didn’t bother to understand her when you were in a relationship with her. Why now?”

“I realized too late that I love her,” Waverly sniffed.

Sophie watched both heads swivel towards her, and quickly turned back to misting.

“Bullshit,” Cal hissed moments later. “You’re just fucking _jealous_. Why don’t you just leave and never come back?”

“Maybe I’m jealous,” Waverly said smugly, “but maybe I’ll give Dr. Suliman another little review of your establishment here.”

“You bitch.”

Sophie strode up to the counter. “Can I help here?”

“The last thing I need is _your_ help,” Waverly snarled.

“And what, pray, is that supposed to mean?”

“Why do you talk like you’re from the thirties?”

“Why are you stalking a twenty-two-year-old woman when you’re in _your_ thirties?” Sophie demanded.

Cal did his guffaw again.

Sophie turned to the legal pad on the counter, usually reserved for jotting lists of clients’ needs for their bouquets. She wrote out the following:

_Dr. Suliman_

_We hope that we haven’t driven you away with anything less than quality! We know you’re expecting a celebration in the near future, and we’d like to do business with you. Since you’re a valued customer, we have a 30% discount in store for you. Come in soon._

_Howl’s Flowers_

“Why don’t you give your boss this note,” Sophie asked, “or I’ll send the one that explains that you’re harassing mine?”

Waverly scowled and snatched the slip from her hands, clomping in her wedges out of the store.

* * *

Howl came into the shop in a flurry of excitement, then grasped Sophie’s hands and guided her in a game of ring-around-the-rosie. “Cal told me what you did,” Howl said breathlessly. “I could just kiss you.”

“I wouldn’t complain,” said Sophie.

Howl considered that, then did, gently. She pulled away with a soft _smack_ and Sophie’s lips buzzed.

Howl retreated to glance at her new outfit: a lilac-colored flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. It was after her shopping spree with Cal, who said that Sophie had finally freed him of his laborious best-friend duties.

“Well,” Howl murmured, “you look properly gay today.”

“You knew I was gay?”

“I caught you staring at my ass a couple times.”

“Bull,” Sophie scoffed. “If anything, it’s _you_ staring at _mine_.”

“All right,” Howl conceded. “I may have been projecting.”

Sophie wasn’t prepared for the easy admission and blushed. “So, what now? Do I stay on your payroll?”

“You’re almost done for the summer, anyway. But I’d like to spend more time with you, Sophie, if that’s all right.”

“Only if you keep singing in the shower.”

  
  
  



End file.
